


Nineteen

by flumpazoid



Category: Common Law
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:37:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1401661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flumpazoid/pseuds/flumpazoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey man, how come you're not taking this case?"</p>
<p>Deitz gave Travis a wry look.  "I wouldn't touch it with a hairdryer."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thursday

“Look, Clyde, all I'm saying is, my Mother's Day? Trumps yours.”

“You haven't met my mother.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Rozelle muttered.

“Oh my God! Did you see that?”

“What is it, Dakota?”

“Wes just SMILED.”

“I did no such thing.”

“Wes, perhaps you'd like to tell us your Mother's Day plans.”

“Sure. I'm driving him” - a thumb jabbed in Travis's direction - “around all day to visit his eighteen moms.”

“My bike's in the shop.”

“He crashed it.”

“Oh my gosh, Travis are you ok?”

“I'm fine, thank you Grace. And I didn't crash it.”

“He rode home in the rain, after I told him not to, and he crashed it.”

“The bike skidded.”

“And crashed. I said I would give you a ride home-”

“I couldn't wait half an hour for you to finish up, I had plans, ok?”

“THAT ARE WORTH DYING FOR?”

“Don't yell at me, man.”

“He's only yelling because he cares. That's so sweet.” Wes opened his mouth. “Don't bother denying it,” Dakota continued. “Travis, you need to be more careful. What would Wes do if you were gone?”

“Have an easier life,” Wes muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dr Ryan's expression remained professionally blank. “That's very considerate of you, helping Travis on your day off.”

“Yes, Wes. Aren't you visiting your mother? Our boys are coming home for Sunday lunch.”

“That sounds nice. And no, I'm not.” Wes looked at the horrified faces around him. He ignored Travis's raised eyebrows. “What?”

“Dude. It's Mother's Day.” “

I know. I've ordered flowers.”

“Aren't you supposed to actually, I dunno, give them to her?”

“I've organised the delivery, they'll turn up on Sunday.”

“Travis, have you met Wes's mother?” Dakota asked curiously.

“I'm not sure he has one.” Travis leaned back in his chair, sprawling out comfortably. “To be honest with you, I think he's an android.”

Wes's phone chose that moment to go off and he glanced at the screen. “Well, this android's got work to do.” He stood up and kicked Travis's chair. “You coming?”

***

“I'd like to meet your mom.”

“Yeah? Well, you won't.”

“I'm sure Alex would introduce me.”

“Don't you dare.”

Travis pulled out his phone. “Let me ask her.”

“Oh look, we're here.” Wes pulled up by the crime scene. “Get out.”

“Touchy,” Travis chided with a grin. “I bet your mom would love me.”

“OUT.”

***

“You guys have to see this.” They followed Deitz past the police tape and into the restaurant, then down a narrow set of stairs to a basement.

“Hey man, how come you're not taking this case?”

Deitz gave Travis a wry look. “I wouldn't touch it with a hairdryer.” Wes and Travis frowned at each other. Things got more bizarre when Deitz started pushing against a brick wall.

“Uh…”

“Who's got a flashlight? I need to get the right - there it is.” Part of the wall suddenly swung open.

“Secret room!”

“What are you, twelve?”

“Come on, Wes, it's a secret room. This is gonna be awesome.”

“This is a crime scene.”

“Yeah, a really awesome one.”

“See, I knew you two would want this case. Hey, Sruthi, you could've opened the door, you know.”

The crime scene officer grinned. “It was more fun to listen to you struggling with it.”

The detectives glanced around the room. Besides the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, the only other object in the room was an ancient chest freezer. “Aww, hell no,” Travis said.

Sruthi gestured at the freezer. “You don't want to take a look?”

“If this is some Hannibal Lecter shit…”

Wes just shook his head at Travis's antics and opened the freezer door. “The body appears to be intact,” he said. “Although I'm having trouble seeing much of it.”

Travis approached the freezer warily. “What do you mean?”

“Somebody needed to defrost this years ago.”

“That's just wrong.”

“Yeah, we're gonna have to transport the whole freezer back to the lab.” Sruthi looked more happy about that than any well-adjusted person should.

“Jonelle's gonna kill us,” Travis moaned.

“You two survived Concrete Guy,” Deitz explained helpfully. “That's how we knew you were right for the case.”

“Great,” Wes muttered.

“See, even Wes thinks Jonelle's gonna kills us, and she likes him.”

“At least this one'll defrost?”

“Not helpful, Deitz. Not helpful.”

“You wanna talk to the guy who found the body?”

***

The bright sunlight was a shock after the dimly lit basement. Despite the warmth, the man standing outside was trembling.

“You Adam Tucker?”

“Y-yeah, that's me.”

“I'm Detective Wes Mitchell, this is Detective Travis Marks, we need to ask you a few questions, ok?”

“Yeah, that's fine. Oh God, I've never seen a dead person before.”

Wes shot Travis a this-one's-all-yours look. Travis smiled encouragingly at the witness. “Not what you were expecting to find, huh?”

The laugh that spilled from the man's mouth was slightly hysterical. “I was following the power cables. My mom's just bought this place, she and my stepdad are going to open a soul food restaurant, you know? I came down to help them before college starts again. So I was having a look around and I noticed that the electricity supply was leading into what looked like the building next door. I thought, I need to check this out, because I don't want my mom losing money paying for someone else's electricity, but when I was feeling around to see where the cable went, part of the wall opened up like a door, and I thought 'secret room! Awesome!'” The hysterical laughter returned. Wes winced, and Travis discreetly motioned to him that he could leave if he wanted.

“Secret rooms always sound awesome,” he agreed. Wes saw Sruthi emerge from the restaurant and practically ran after her.

“That's what I thought, right? I thought maybe there'd be a bar or a safe or something cool, you know? But there's just this freezer and I opened the freezer, and there was a human being in it and why did I open it? Why?” Adam's hysterical laughter was turning to sobs.

“It's ok.” Travis gave him a reluctant pat on the shoulder.

“What kind of freak puts a person in a freezer?”

“That's what we're here to find out. Do you know who your mom bought the restaurant from?”

***

“You go in first.”

“No, you go in first.”

The door swung open abruptly.

“Hello, boys. Were you looking for me?” Jonelle smiled sweetly.

“This is Deitz's fault,” Travis blurted.

“Yes, I heard. I also heard you arguing for the last ten minutes, so let's just get on with it, shall we?”

Wes and Travis followed her into the room.

“Observe how the body is encased in ice and is currently being held in a tub. And look, there's the freezer, surrounded by crime scene investigators. I do so love it when other people invade my space.”

Wes cringed. “Sorry, Jonelle.”

She sighed. “It's not your fault. Look, it's going to be slow going until the body's defrosted, so I won't have anything for you before tomorrow.”

“Ok. Thank you.”

“I'll call you when I have something. At least this one isn't in concrete.”

***

They sat at their desks and stared at each other.

“Man, I don't even know where to start.”

Wes shook his head. “We've got nothing.”

“You know what that means.”

Wes nodded.

***

There was a knock at the door. Wes paused, mini basketball in hand.

“This meeting room is in use for Very Important Business,” Travis yelled. “Oh, hi Kendall.”

“Hi,” she smiled, walking in and perching on a desk. “I've found a couple of things that may or may not be helpful.”

“That doesn't sound promising,” Travis said. Wes ignored him and smiled encouragingly at her. “What've you found?”

“The freezer the body was found in - manufacture of that particular model took place between 1970 and 1973.”

“Damn.”

“I did say it may not be helpful.”

“No, that's very helpful, Kendall. It gives us a place to start.”

“In the 70s. Deitz set us up.”

“You said you found a couple of things?”

“Yeah, after I got the manufacture dates for the freezer, I pulled the property records for the restaurant going back to 1969.” She handed Wes a file. “It makes for pretty interesting reading. You may have heard of it - Amanos?”

“Amanos?” Travis asked. “Wasn't that some fancy Italian restaurant that was a front for the Mob?”

Wes threw the squishy little basketball vaguely in Travis's direction and flipped open the file. “That would explain why this reads like a Who's Who of the LA Mafia.”

“Really?” Travis snatched the file out of Wes's hands. “Licata, Capaldi, Matteo… hey, didn't Capaldi flip?”

“He did, not that it changed anything much. Licata's brother continued running the show when he went to prison - until Peter Matteo killed him. Allegedly.”

“It says here that the premises were auctioned after Matteo died this year.”

“Liquidating his assets? Who's the beneficiary?”

“Looks like he left everything to an animal shelter here in LA.”

“An animal shelter?”

“Yeah, a legit one. I've heard Randi talk about it, they have a hard time keeping the place going because they're a no-kill shelter.”

“So we've got a possible murder victim, possibly from the 70s, who was possibly the victim of a mob hit.”

“Come on, guys. Are you telling me that the best team in Robbery/Homicide can't solve this case?”

Travis grinned at Kendall. “Sure we can.”

“We don't even have an approximate year for time of death,” Wes complained.

“We can,” Travis said, a little more firmly.

***

Friday

“Heard you guys got a cold case.”

“That's funny, Amy. Very funny. I'm laughing. You can't see it on my face or anything, but joy and hilarity are what I'm feeling right now.”

Wes ignored Travis and carried on looking at his screen.

“Bet you can't solve it.”

“Yeah?” Travis sat up a little straighter. “We solve this case? You have to go on a date with me.”

Amy considered him for a second. “Ok. You lose? I'm getting the car.”

“Deal.”

“Hey! No deal! That is my car. Travis, you cannot bet someone else's property!”

“We're partners, what's yours is mine.”

“No, it is not. You cannot bet my car. Bet something of yours.”

“Fine. Amy, if we lose, you get my bike. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“And there is no 'we' in this, I was not party to any of the terms.”

“Come on, Wes, I took your car off the table. You practically made the terms.”

“Amy!” Kate yelled.

“I'm coming!” Amy snatched her coffee from the desk. “That bike is mine.”

Wes watched her go. “The bike's a write-off, isn't it.”

“Yup.”

“She'll kill you when she finds out.”

“She won't find out, because we're going to solve this.”

Wes's phone beeped. “It's Jonelle.”

***

“Gentlemen, meet your Jane Doe.” The body on the slab belonged to a young woman who would have been pretty when she was alive.

“With that 'fro, I'm guessing she really did die in the 70s. Damn it.”

“Travis and Amy have a bet about whether we'll solve this case,” Wes explained.

“How very mature.” Travis opened his mouth. “No. I talk. You listen. That is how this works.”

Travis shut his mouth.

“The clothes recovered from the body also seem to be from the late 1960s or early 1970s. Forensics are going through them at the moment.” She pulled the sheet back. “Cause of death is two gunshot wounds to the chest, 9 millimeter bullets fired at close range.”

“Like a mob hit?”

“It certainly has the hallmarks of one. There were no defensive wounds indicating a struggle.”

“So she either knew her killer and didn't have time to react, or it was a professional hit.”

“Which goes with your theory. The victim was around 22 years old, and she had recently given birth.”

“How recently?”

“I would say a week or so prior to this.”

Travis and Wes looked at each other. “We didn't find a body.”

“The baby could've been kidnapped,” Wes said.

“The restaurant basement wasn't the site of the murder, though, was it. Sruthi said there was no evidence of blood splatter.”

“She had definitely been moved,” Jonelle confirmed. “Thanks to the fact that she was dumped in a freezer, we've managed to get far more than we usually would for a body this old. There are traces of ham on her skin and her clothes.”

“Ham?”

“Serrano ham, to be precise.”

Travis turned to Wes. “The kind that would be served in a high-end Italian restaurant?”

“You mean like Amanos? Sounds plausible.”

“As I said, Forensics are still working on it, so I'll let you know when we've got anything further.”

“Thanks Jonelle. We'll go and start interviewing people. You know, as long as they're not dead or too old to remember anything.”

“Wes!”

***

Travis knocked at the door. “You wanted to see us, Cap?”

Captain Sutton waved Travis and Wes in. “Sit down, boys. How's it going with the case?”

They looked at each other. “Well,” Travis said. “We've got a Jane Doe, time of death probably some point in the 1970s, cause of death close-range gunshot wounds. Looks like a mob hit.”

Captain Sutton nodded. “I'm taking you off the case.” He held up a hand against Wes's protest. “You do great work. You're the best team that Robbery/Homicide's got, and I want justice for this Jane Doe, like any other victim. But this department is stretched to the limit. I've got bodies that are still bleeding out on the streets of LA. I've got to put my resources where they'll be most useful, so I have a decision to make. Do I keep my two best detectives on a cold case, probably a mob hit, where nobody out there is likely to get hurt, or do I use my detectives to catch a killer who's a danger to the public?”

“Sir, I understand, but there's a missing kid.”

Travis looked at Wes incredulously. “Weren't you the one just moaning about how this is a cold case and how all the persons of interest are too old or too dead to be of any use?”

“Wait a second,” Captain Sutton said. “There's a missing kid?”

“There isn't a kid. There's either a body of a kid, or there's a fully grown adult somewhere out there.”

“Our Jane Doe had a baby shortly before she was murdered,” Wes explained.

The Captain paused for a moment, considering. “Fine,” he said. “You have until the end of Monday. Show me what you've got and I'll make a decision then.”

***

Travis spun Wes's chair so he was no longer facing his computer screen. “Your eyes need a rest,” he said.

“Is that coffee?”

Travis held it out to him. “Cinnamon dolce latte, no cream.”

Wes took it and looked at Travis with suspicion. “You're being nice.”

“I'm celebrating.” And there was that familiar, smug smile. “I just cracked this case wide open.”

Wes leaned back in his chair and took an appreciative sip of his coffee. He was going to be mature and not at all competitive about this. “Oh really?”

“Mmm hmm.” Travis nodded, not elaborating any further.

“So you won't be needing any of the information that I've found, then.”

Travis narrowed his eyes at Wes. “What've you got?”

Wes shrugged. “Nothing important. After all, you're the one who's cracked this case wide open.”

“I'll show you mine if you show me yours,” Travis offered.

“Fine. You go first.”

Travis held up a framed picture. “Does she look familiar?”

“That's our vic.”

“That's our vic with Frank Licata and some other dude. According to the back of this photo, her name was Nia Campbell.”

“Nia Campbell, I've seen that name pop a few times. She was one of the singers at the Sunset Lounge.”

“The Sunset Lounge?”

“A private, members-only club that was mostly used for doing business. Mafia-type business.”

“Maybe she heard something she shouldn't have.”

“Or maybe she got involved with someone she shouldn't have. Have we got a next of kin?”

“She has a sister in Atlanta.”

“Give me the details, I'll make the call.”

“Are you sure?”

“It's five o'clock on a Friday, you've got tons of presents to buy, just go and leave me in peace.”

“If you're sure.”

“Next time I want a low-fat blueberry muffin as well.”

“Anything for you, baby.”

“Travis, are you coming to the mall or what?” Amy yelled from the doorway.

“There's my ride,” he grinned.

Wes turned back to his desk. He had a call to make.

***

Saturday

“Jonelle?”

“Wes, I'm sorry to call you during the weekend, but there's something I need to show you.”

“I'll be there in twenty.”

***

Wes was greeted not just by Jonelle, but also by Kendall when he entered the morgue.

“This is Kendall's tech, which is why she's here.”

“Ok,” Wes said slowly, as if that explanation made sense.

“We managed to extract some DNA from your Jane Doe,” Jonelle said. “You would, quite rightly, wonder why we bothered, given that there was no DNA fingerprinting in the 1970s. However, this Quantico-trained genius created a program that's being piloted both at the FBI and here.”

“It's just code,” Kendall shrugged.

“What kind of code?”

Kendall's eyes lit up. “It's a series of algorithms that… You know what? Never mind. Basically, it reads DNA from every available database. So, say your father robbed a bank and left some DNA evidence behind. He's never committed a crime before so he's not in the system. But you are. This program finds a match so it knows you're related.”

“It can even identify that you're his son, it's pretty useful tech,” Jonelle added.

“So there's someone in the database who's related to Nia Campbell?”

“Your Jane Doe's name is Nia Campbell?”

“We think so, we'll know once her sister ID's her.”

Jonelle and Kendall looked at each other. “When's her sister coming?”

“Monday. Please just tell me what's going on.”

Kendall tapped at her keyboard. “This is Nia Campbell's DNA.” A few more taps and new blots appeared, overlaying the old ones. “You see how these are a match? This is her son's DNA.”

“We know who the son is? Is he alive?”

“Wes,” Jonelle said gently. “That DNA belongs to Travis.”


	2. Chapter 2

"You're sure. You're definitely sure about this."

"The program's still in beta, but it works," Kendall said.

"So there's no chance that this," he motioned at the screen, "is a mistake?"

"We wouldn't have called you if we thought there was any doubt." Jonelle's voice was still gentle, and it sounded so very wrong. 

Everything about this was wrong.

"Who knows about this?” Wes demanded.

“Just the two of us,” Jonelle assured him. “And now we've told you. Wes, I'm sorry, but I just didn't know what else to do.”

“That's ok. To be honest, I don't know what to do either. I just… I have to talk to him.”

***

Wes slipped through the main door of the building after a young woman in workout gear and took the stairs up to Travis's apartment.

Before he could knock, the door swung open. Travis looked momentarily surprised before his face broke into a grin.

“Wes! Your timing could not be better. I need a ride to the mall.”

“Again? Didn't you get all your shopping done yesterday?”

“You ever tried shopping for eighteen women at once? Don't even bother answering that, I know you haven't. You've barely shopped for one."

"Travis, we need to talk."

"Hey man, seeing as you're here you can make me breakfast."

"I'm serious, we... It's nearly midday, what do you mean, 'breakfast'?"

"Brunch, whatever." Travis pushed Wes into the kitchen and waved his arms in the direction of the stove. "Cook for me."

"Ok," Wes said helplessly.

Travis shrugged off his jacket and hopped up on the counter, where he sprawled across all the available space. He swung his legs as his fingers tapped a rhythm on the surface. "I want French toast. And bacon. And corned beef hash. And you have to do something with that avocado." He pointed at the fruit in question, sitting on the kitchen table next to a very large knife. 

Wes followed his gaze. "I don't know, Travis. It looks like you had plans for that avocado."

"I was going to eat it. And I'm still going to eat it, but now it'll taste better. Come on, get started."

Wes sighed and started rummaging through the nearest cupboard.

"I don't-"

"You are not breaking up with me."

Wes turned to stare at Travis. He was still sprawled on the counter. Casually so, if nobody looked closely enough to notice the tense line of his shoulders.

"What?"

"You said we need to talk. Everyone knows what that means."

Wes shook his head. "It means we need to talk." He closed the cupboard door and turned to face Travis. "You know the Nia Campbell case?" 

"Yeah, have we got a lead? Amy can't find out about my bike."

"Travis," he said quietly. "She's your mother."

Travis went still. He stared at Wes. "What did you say?"

"Nia Campbell's your mother," Wes repeated. "Jonelle extracted her DNA, they ran it through a database that finds related DNA and it came up with you."

Travis bit his lip and looked down at his lap. "Ok," he said finally, meeting Wes's eyes, and oh shit. The last time Wes saw that look he ended up pulling his gun on him. 

Travis pushed himself off the counter and picked up his jacket.

"Wait!" Wes hurried after Travis as he made for the door. "Where are we going?"

Travis still had that awful look in his eyes. "You don't have to come," he said quietly.

Wes gripped his shoulder. "Whatever it is, we do it together. Besides, how are you gonna get anywhere without me?" He jangled his car keys, aiming for light-hearted and failing miserably.

Travis gave him a long look, and finally a slight nod and an "Ok."

It'd do for now.

***

They pulled up outside a fire station. Travis got out and Wes followed him to the front steps.

"I went through a phase." Travis smiled and it was twisted, broken. "When I was twelve. I wanted to know where I came from, who I was. You know Margie."

Wes nodded. "TSA mom, right? The one who makes the amazing tamales?"

Travis's smile became more genuine. "She helped me do some research during that summer."

"The firefighters found me here," Travis continued, pointing at their feet. He turned north and Wes walked with him until he stopped in front of a building. 

"It's always bugged me," he said. "This used to be an orphanage. Why did I end up three blocks away at the fire station instead?"

He looked at Wes like Wes would have the answers, like he could make things right.

"We'll figure it out," he replied and he meant it, but that wasn't going to help now.

***

They walked back to the fire station in silence. Travis looked at the people milling around inside. "Anyone who was here at the time would be retired by now."

"Worth asking anyway?"

***

They got a name and an address and the silence was suffocating until Wes saw golden arches and blurted, "I want a cheeseburger."

Travis stared at him and it was the old Travis, his Travis, and everything was ok. "This I gotta see," he grinned.

Wes had one cheeseburger, Travis had two ("you're not doing this properly, I am deeply disappointed in you right now"), but he did steal Travis's fries (two of them), and it felt like they could breathe again.

"Are you gonna tell Cap?" Travis asked suddenly. Wes didn't insult him by pretending to misunderstand.

"He'll pull you off the case if we tell him. But he's pulling us both off the case by Tuesday, so I don't see the need."

Travis nodded, looking out the window.

"Do we need Dr Ryan?"

"I'm ok, Wes. Promise."

***

Raymond Brown lived in a nice semi-detached house in the suburbs. He wasn't the young man in the firefighter's uniform whose photograph was on the mantelpiece, but he was still sharp.

"Sure, I remember like it was yesterday," he said, pouring coffee with a steady hand. He produced a bottle of bourbon from nowhere. "Anyone want a shot? It's medicinal."

"I'm driving," Wes said, eyeing the bottle wistfully.

"What about you, son? You look like you could use it."

Travis smiled weakly. "Thank you, but not while we're working."

"Of course, of course." He stirred some bourbon into his own cup and took a sip. "That's the nice thing about being retired, you know? If I wanna have a drink at lunchtime and nap in the afternoon, who's gonna stop me? Well, my daughter, but she's not coming by today."

"Mr Brown, you said you remembered what happened," Travis prompted.

"Sure, kid. August 18th, 1972. Nine thirty pm. We weren't getting any calls, I was feeling restless, I went out the back to get some air. This bright blue Pontiac Firebird booked it past me, nearly ran over a lady who was crossing the street. I made sure she was ok, then I walked round to the front. I saw this baby carrier sitting on the steps. I took a look inside, and there was a little one. Tiny little thing, must've only been a week or two old. There was a cabbage patch doll in there with him, I swear it was bigger than he was.

"I picked him up and he looked at me with these big blue eyes. Cutest baby you ever saw. Marie and I wanted to keep him, but," he shook his head. "They said we couldn't. Said it was unnatural. Sarah never did get the little brother she wanted."

Wes became acutely aware of the change in Travis's breathing.

"Was there anything else in the baby carrier? A note or anything like that?" Travis's voice was deliberately even.

"No, nothing."

Wes pulled the photo of Nia Campbell out of his jacket pocket. "Do you recognize this woman?" he asked.

Raymond took the photo and peered at it. "She was in the passenger seat of the Pontiac."

"Do you remember what the driver looked like?"

Raymond nodded. "Clear as day."

"You think you could work with a sketch artist and get us a picture?"

"Sure, for whatever it's worth. I mean, he'll be forty years older now."

"It would be a great help," Travis assured, voice still too-calm.

"I can give you the registration of the Pontiac while you're here. I gave it to the cops at the time, but I never heard anything from them. I wrote everything in my journal, just in case." Raymond handed the photo back to Wes. "What happened to her?" he asked.

"She was murdered. Her body was discovered two days ago."

"Dear Lord, that poor girl." He took a swig of his coffee. "Let me go get my journal."

As he ambled up the stairs, Wes touched Travis's shoulder hesitantly.

"You gonna ask me if I'm ok?" Travis asked quietly through clenched teeth.

"No." Travis didn't shake Wes off, so he left his hand there. "You want chicken parm for dinner?"

Travis looked at him then. "Only if you're cooking."

"Of course."

"You never made me breakfast."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"If you're apologizing, then I know it's bad. Let's get the plates for this Pontiac and get the hell outta here."

"Good plan."

***

Wes watched Travis inhale his dinner.

"There's more if you want."

"Mmmmph," Travis said.

"But I think maybe we should call Dr Ryan."

Travis slurped a noodle.

"I'm the repressed one in this relationship."

"Ha!" Travis said, shoving his fork in his mouth.

"Are you eating your feelings? Trust me, don't do that. You end up getting fat and having to do a cleanse."

"When have you ever been fat?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Travis stuck his tongue out at him and he'd never been so glad to see half-chewed chicken.

"You're disgusting," he said with a little too much affection. Thankfully, Travis didn't seem to notice.

His phone beeped and he looked down at the screen. "It's Kendall."

"She get an owner for the Pontiac?"

Wes frowned at the screen. "Jonathan Lowry," he read.

Travis paused. "You don't mean Senator Lowry?"

Wes looked back at him. "I hope not."

"Man, I'm sick of seeing his face everywhere. The election isn't for months."

Wes's phone beeped again and he sighed.

"Shall we go see him in person?"

***

"Man, what the hell?"

The street was bathed in blue flashing lights as their car pulled up. Travis jumped out and jogged to the waiting ambulance while Wes parked.

"Detective Travis Marks," he said to the driver, flashing his badge.

"Finally," she said. "I swear you guys are getting slower and slower."

"What's going on?" he asked.

"We're waiting for you. Ain't much we can do."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't like politicians, but six bullets to the chest? That's personal." Her radio crackled and she gave Travis a smile as she turned back to respond.

Travis stared at her as Wes headed towards him. "What's going on?" Wes asked, nodding at the ambulance.

"Senator Lowry's dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued. For real.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to any forensic scientists reading this. And computer programmers. And people with knowledge of stuff that I've made up purely for plot purposes.


End file.
